


Rescuing Tim

by chrissy_sky, TerraTenshi



Series: Rescue Tim [7]
Category: Batman Beyond, DCU - Comicverse, Smallville
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M, Slash, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrissy_sky/pseuds/chrissy_sky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraTenshi/pseuds/TerraTenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Batman searches for the captured Tim Drake, so does Red Hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescuing Tim

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of our Rescue Tim series following Seeing With Eyes Unclouded. Lex’s personality is based more upon Smallville than the comics (though some events from the comics will be included). Jason is more even tempered than his canon counterpart because the circumstances of his own Joker attack were different, but hopefully readers will still see some shadows that are similar. As a reminder, again, the Joker crippled Jason in this verse, not Barbara, and he didn’t die. (Since we decided to include Cassandra Cain anyway, she still becomes Oracle.)

~~

 

As Oracle spoke over the radio to Batman and Nightwing, letting them know what she had learned from Harley Quinn, Jason Todd listened in on the tap he had placed on their radios. Normally Tim Drake, the current Robin, would lock him out of the system, but the teen wasn’t able to do that right now.

 

Tim was waiting for them to find him.

 

He had been grabbed during patrol. For hours, Jason had been performing his own search, just as Batman had done, but it was Barbara Gordon who succeeded in figuring out what happened.

 

The Joker had gone after one of Batman’s partners yet again.

 

After Bruce had split his group into teams to check the locations on the list, Jason coordinated his team to follow and supervise the heroes. (Batman and Nightwing had already called in some of their friends from the League for help, but that wasn’t enough for Jason.)

 

He wished he could be out there with them, but his legs made it impossible for the moment. He remained in his apartment building turned Watchtower, doing everything he could from in front of his computers.

 

This was exactly why he had handpicked his team, though. To be his legs, and his fists.

 

Batman hadn’t been thrilled with Jason’s actions, of course. Jason had no idea what the man wanted him to do after the incident, but putting together a group of former rogues and failed heroes hadn’t been it.

 

And Lex Luthor was his financial backer. No one in the JLA was happy with that. They thought the head of LexCorp, Superman’s arch-nemesis, was corrupting the sweet little former Robin.

 

(Or, in the case of others who were more naïve, thought Jason was having the reverse effect on Lex, which was just silly.)

 

Except for a few of the younger generation of heroes, Jason thought they could all go fuck themselves.

 

He couldn’t just tell anyone to go fuck themselves though; not when there were nights like tonight when his team had to work with these people.

 

Jason sat back in his wheelchair, letting the neck support do its job and rubbed at his throbbing head as he listened to his team over the communicators.

 

“Night Bird isn’t happy to see us,” said Roy Harper, now Arsenal, who had been placed with Dick’s search group. The current Flash, Wally West, was there too—practically an old Titan reunion.

 

“How’s Big Bat taking it?”

 

“No reaction,” answered Mia Dearden. “Yet.”

 

Jason grimaced. He knew Mia would be keeping her distance from Batman. Bruce had that effect on people. That was why Jason had made sure the more “innocent” members of his team were with his former boss. Some of the others would set him off all the more easily.

 

“Not in point B,” the ethereal Secret checked in. She was with the new Batgirl, Cassandra Cain. “We’re heading to the next location.”

 

“Looks like someone cleared out of here in a hurry,” Hartley Rathaway, the reformed Pied Piper, said. He had been placed with Black Canary and Huntress. “Can't be sure if it's J or squatters yet though.”

 

“Same here,” said Edward Nigma with resigned amusement, from his location with Green Arrow’s team, “though from the look of the bad jokes scribbled in bad handwriting, I'd say he was here at some point.”

 

“Noted and noted,” Jason said.

 

One of his computers informed him that his work email had just received a message. Jason sat forward and quickly checked it when he saw it was from _birdsofafeather@cobblepot.com._

 

“Oz just passed us a few more potential locations,” Jason informed his people after reading, heart beating faster. Quinn’s information had gotten them started, but this— _this was a real lead!_

 

“Baddies are just crawling out of the woodworks to help,” said Rose Wilson.

 

Roy, clearly smiling, responded, “They're all afraid that Jase'll kill them if they get in our way, and Big Bat won't be much gentler. And potential rewards don’t hurt either.”

 

“Hey,” Hartley objected good-naturedly. “Some of us aren't just here for the cash.”

 

“Cash was involved though,” remarked Selina Kyle.

 

“Stay focused,” Jason growled, cutting short the familiar banter. He knew this was how they coped with serious situations and they weren’t actually enjoying themselves. But all Jason could think about was Tim, and the last conversation they’d had.

 

_“Don’t worry, Jase,” Tim had said, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he stood half in, half out the door. “I can take care of myself.”_

 

That had been a week ago. He had been missing for a little over two days now. There had been absolutely no warning; this was no crisis or mission with the Teen Titans. Tim had only gone on a very ordinary patrol, and the Joker had been bored or something. That was all.

 

Jason still felt like blaming himself.

 

No matter what disagreements Jason had with Bruce, he’d tried to stay in touch with his Bat siblings. In another life, he would have been jealous of a child taking his place a year after his crippling. But Jason had changed when he became a leader, and maybe Lex had influenced that, but so had Roy, the kids, and their friends.

 

He liked Tim immediately upon meeting him, growing to love him like he did Dick and Barbara now as well.

 

Now, a member of his strange family was being threatened.

 

Fucking Joker.

 

His team quickly returned to work, no arguments, either out of a sense of loyalty or because Jason paid them well, or a combination of the two. He kept their lines open as he turned up the volume on the police scanner, just in case.

 

Sometime later, there was a muffled conversation he couldn’t make out, and then scuffling. Jason frowned and turned off the scanner. “What’s going on?”

 

Roy cursed profusely. “Jase, Night Bird wants to talk to you.”

 

“Very well,” Jason ground out, irritated. “Tell him I can hear him.”

 

“What the heck are you doing, Jason?” Dick demanded once he had.

 

Jason adjusted the com so that Dick could hear him as well. “Everything I can to find the baby bird, _Dick_.”

 

If that phased Nightwing, he didn’t let on. “Bruce is handling it; if you want to help talk to him.”

 

“Is that what you need before you'll work with my team?”

 

“Yes,” Dick responded in an annoyed huff.

 

Jason growled—it was suddenly like years ago, back when Jason had been a bratty kid and Dick had been Disco Nightwing. Dick had tried to mentor him in those days, but Jason had often brushed him off. A lot of things had changed when the Joker had tried to kill him, though occasionally being irritated by his big brother was not one of them.

 

Regardless, he still tapped into Bruce’s communicator. “Old man.”

 

“What do you want, Jason?” came the familiar rumble. If Bruce was surprised, he didn’t let on.

 

“I just want to find Timmy, that's all.”

 

“We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

 

Jason rolled his eyes. Bruce tried, but his reassurances had always left something to be desired. Or maybe that was Jason’s feelings coloring things, he didn’t know. He would always feel bitter. “We'll find him quicker if you work with my team.”

 

“I don’t work with criminals.” Succinct and unbending.

 

“They're reforming. You used to believe people were capable of it.”

 

“No.” Not a denial—he just wasn’t listening.

 

“If even one part of you used to trust me, then trust me now,” Jason snapped angrily. “For Tim.”

 

“I trust you, I don't trust the others.”

 

Somehow, something inside Jason was still hurt by that, even after all the other things Bruce had said to him. “I trust them,” he said instead. “They've proven themselves time and again to me. Even Edward and Hartley. They _want_ to change, and working for me gives them the support to do so, instead of just letting them loose.”

 

“I don't have time for this right now, Jason,” Bruce sighed, sounding put upon. “If you want to help, go back to the Manor. Alfred's setting up a sick room.”

 

Shortly after his injury, Bruce had set up Wayne Manor to be wheelchair accessible just for him. As much as Bruce could be a monumental jerk sometimes, he did still try to be a good person, and sometimes Jason would remember that.

 

Right now was not one of those times.

 

“Whatever.” Jason switched off the communication with Batman and meant to turn the one with his team back on, when he realized belatedly that he had left it on the whole time.

 

They had heard every word he said to his adopted father.

 

“Jase,” Secret murmured, sympathy in her voice.

 

Jason cut off whatever she would say. “Keep working with the Goodies, but don't expect them to be friendly. Roy, follow Nightwing's group from a distance, that should calm him down.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Roy said in a remarkably respectful tone.

 

No one said anything else, for which Jason’s ego was grateful for. He gave his team compliments when they did well, but this was different. It wasn’t every day their boss stuck up to the freaking dark knight, scourge of the criminal world, for them.

 

The search continued. More and more hideouts were eliminated, with no sign of Robin. Jason continued monitoring and searching for new information. Some of the sites looked recently inhabited, as though Joker had left in a hurry. Jason began to wonder if the psychopathic clown was on the move, if he knew he was being hounded down. The news of the search must have spread through the underworld fast, if that was the case.

 

But it was taking too long. Jason needed to find Tim, needed the teen to be alive, or something in him would break that Jason wasn’t sure could ever be fixed.

 

“Alright, everyone, new plan,” he announced. “Roy, Mia, Greta, Hartley; I'm sending you new coordinates from Oz's info. I want you to check them out. Watch yourselves, five minute check-ins. Anyone misses a check and we go to full blown red alert, got it?”

 

“Roger, boss,” said Roy, the other three following with similar assertions.

 

About an hour after separating, Hartley reported in. “I may have something.”

 

“What is it?” Jason demanded. He would pace the room if he could. There was room to pace – Lex did it often.

 

“Blood, still wet. Looks like someone was dragged.”

 

“Proceed carefully,” Jason cautioned. “Who can get to Hartley's location the fastest?”

 

“I got it,” said Roy.

 

“Go, now.”

 

“Already on my way.”

 

-

 

They had met on Hartley’s first day at the Red Hood Watchtower. He’d nearly tripped over his own feet when he noticed a drop dead gorgeous redhead checking him out.

 

Of course, he was wearing the old polka-dotted costume at the time.

 

_The younger man lowered his sunglasses to eye him up. “You gotta be kidding me.”_

_Hartley felt himself blush all the way to his ears. “What?”_

_“The polka dots. I mean, I get what you’re going for. My old boss dresses like freaking Robin Hood. But what’s with the polka dots?”_

_“Polka will never die,” Hartley murmured, embarrassed and remembering the last book he’d read._

_Surprisingly, the man grinned like he got the reference. “Polka, maybe. Polka dots though? I’m so taking you shopping later.”_

 

These days he stayed toward solid greens, even if it meant he clashed horrifyingly with his lover either way.

 

It should have been against the rules to work together with one’s lover, but this was constantly ignored by the JLA, JSA, Titans, and all the other super hero organizations. Some of the super villains too. Jason Todd was no different in that regard at least. He had made sure Hartley and Roy spent a lot of time practicing together before giving them field missions though. They couldn’t get distracted in each other when there were lives on the line, but they were also more likely to protect each other successfully.

 

Like the Ancient Greeks, Lex Luthor had pointed out, because working for Todd also meant working for Luthor to some degree. While that would have been frightening back in his days with the Rogues, it wasn’t as much now.

 

As they followed a trail of bloody marks on the floor, though, Hartley thought it would have taken a lot to distract him from the current situation.

 

The trail lead to a door covered in chains, barbed wire, and various “Keep Out” signs. “Wow, overkill,” Hartley murmured. His foot started tapping out the riff to _Psycho Killer_ before he made himself stop.

 

“Nobody ever accused Joker of being subtle, babe,” Roy said.

 

“No kidding.” On the com attached to his head, he said, “This could take a while, Jase. I'm betting it's booby trapped in addition to the locks.” He tapped a button on his headset, snapping a quick picture for Jason to see.

 

“Careful,” their leader cautioned. “Joker's calling cards usually have a nasty twist.”

 

“Understood,” Hartley said, because Jason would know. He’d been kidnapped by the Joker also. It was practically a Batman sidekick tradition at this point.

 

They split the work. Roy started cutting through the wires, gripping the barbed wire carefully with gloved hands. Hartley picked the locks on the chains and when he was done, Roy tried the handle.

 

Hartley was tense with apprehension. It was the Joker, after all, and anything could happen. He wished he could be ready for _anything_ , but there was only so much his music could do, and—

 

The telltale sound of hissing brought his thoughts to an abrupt halt.

 

Hartley tackled his lover out of the way, throwing his body on top Roy’s. Roy grunted and tried to demand what was going on, but Hartley sealed their mouths together as gas enveloped the room.

 

The redhead must have understood. He reached for Hartley’s belt as they shared air, feeling his hip perhaps more than necessary. (His outfit was no more formfitting than Roy’s, which was to say, a lot, despite the heavy cloak.) He found the antitoxins strapped to Hartley’s belt and injected them both, blindly, then pulled out his gun to shoot out the windows.

 

Hartley broke the kiss, panting softly. It took him a few minutes to notice the foolish grin his lover was sporting, but he just laughed at Roy, despite the situation. At least it wasn’t the maniacal laughter he would have emitted if they’d breathed any of the gas. “Come on.”

 

“Problem?” Jason asked tensely over the com.

 

“Joker gas,” Hartley told him. “Dealt with. We’re going in.”

 

Roy kept his gun out as they crept into the room. “Guess we owe Pammy for the updated antidote.”

 

“We already paid it,” Jason surprised them by answering. “Apparently whatever Joker is doing to my little brother was enough to snap Harley out of her attachment to him.”

 

Hartley would have responded to that, because more openly gay people in tights was always a good thing (since he had been one of very few for so long) but then he caught sight of the box.

 

It was a giant jack in the box, complete with a turning handle on the side. It was definitely big enough to fit three large people inside, let alone one small Robin.

 

“Damn,” Roy muttered, eyeing it with suspicion from behind the red domino mask. “Looks like another trap, boss. Big jack in the box in the center of the room.”

 

“Locked down?” Jason asked, sounding anxious.

 

“Yeah.” Roy glanced over at Hartley. “Can you pick this one, babe?”

 

Hartley inspected it closer. “Probably. Bigger problem – it’s airtight.”

 

Jason cursed. “It’s Tim!”

 

Hartley couldn’t help but agree and worse yet, they had no idea how long the teen had been inside. They had to get him out quickly, if they weren’t already too late.

 

His partner keeping a lookout, Hartley worked on the locks as quickly as he could. He warned Roy when he was ready to break the seal. “Get ready, this could be bad.”

 

Kicking high on the handle, Hartley got it to turn. Disjointed music emanated from the box before the top snapped open. Instead of a giant clown’s head, though, an unconscious boy in torn clothing was tied to the end of the spring. He let out a weak cry of pain as he bounced in the air, though it was obvious that the boy wasn’t fully conscious.

 

“Shit!” Roy grabbed hold of the spring and started pulling it down. “Grab him, babe.”

 

Hartley gave a hardy curse as well and climbed up the box, sawing at the ropes tying Tim to the spring. Once the teen was freed, he fell limply against Hartley, who had to scramble to catch him. As he did, he got a good look inside the box.

 

A bomb. Naturally. And it was ticking ever closer to zero. The teen must have managed to disconnect the tripwire for it, which would have set off the moment Hartley had opened the top, before losing consciousness. A back-up timer had kicked in afterwards, which was what was ticking off now. There were signs that Tim had tried to disconnect this as well, but to no avail.

 

“Run!” Hartley cried, shouldering the wounded teen.

 

Roy let go of the spring and was right behind him as Hartley carried Tim out of the building. The redhead wrapped himself around them once they were outside and the building exploded behind them.

 

For a few minutes Piper just laid there, trying not to put too much weight on Tim, and thinking that this was what it was like to be an action hero.

 

He didn’t like it.

 

The radio crackled and then Jason’s voice yelled in Hartley’s ear. “Hartley! Roy! Status now!”

 

“Alive,” Roy panted, helping him sit up with Tim in his lap.

 

In the light of the flames, his injuries were even more apparent, and they both instinctively reached to check for a pulse. Hartley exchanged a grateful look with his lover when they both found one.

 

“All three of us,” the redhead added for Jason’s benefit. “Better send a fast ride for your brother though; he's not doing so good.”

 

“The fastest I have,” said their leader. “It's going to take you to Wayne Manor. Nobody touches Tim until you get to Alfred, got it?”

 

“Gotcha, boss.” Roy was looking him over now. “You okay?”

 

“Good enough for now,” Hartley said. He would be better as soon as the bleeding teen was being treated. He checked him over as best he could, tearing what was left of the yellow and black cape into makeshift bandages on the many, many cuts.

 

Tim only let out another weak whimper, not having the strength for more, not even coming fully awake. Hartley’s heart twisted in sympathy – this was exactly why he’d left the evildoer scene. That and he’d had too many ex-boyfriends in the Rogues, which was just awkward.

 

“Shit, he’s shaking,” Roy whispered.

 

It wasn’t very cold, not after the explosion. Hartley felt Tim’s forehead—he was burning up. “Coming off of something maybe?”

 

Roy grimly checked Tim’s pupils and nodded. “Yeah, looks like it. Bastard.”

 

Hartley, knowing his lover’s past with drug addiction, would have said something then, but was interrupted. Another loud noise filled the air as an automated airplane arrived. On the side was the familiar LexCorp logo.

 

They piled into the small plane and no goons showed up last minute to stop them. The plane barely waited until they were seated before taking off. Roy grunted as he banged his head on the roof and Tim grasped in pain, his arm hitting the side of the plane hard. Coming awake slightly, he whimpered for Jason in a plaintive and broken voice.

 

Hartley cradled the teen the rest of the way to wherever it was they were going. He hoped this Pennyworth fellow could do something to help.

 

Tim’s breath was coming raggedly. Knowing only basic medical care, all Hartley and Roy could do was encourage the boy to hold on, that he would be with Jason soon. It was worse than the time Roy’s daughter had caught the flu and they’d hovered over her bedside for three whole days until she started to improve. They spoke and hoped that Tim would hold onto the sound of their voices, if nothing else.

  
They eventually landed, far smoother than their take off, on the private landing pad of a stone courtyard. It was the front of Wayne Manor, on the palisades of Gotham. The gothic architecture was hard to mistake for anything else.

 

“I know,” Roy grunted, stepping out of helicopter. “Welcome to stately Wayne Manor, former home of our boss and his jerk father.”

 

Hartley nodded, a little weakly. It was hard not to put the pieces together after that, and it made a weird sort of sense. All those toys, as the Joker had called them, _had_ to have come from a lot of money. Bruce Wayne definitely had that.

 

He carried Tim outside where an austere, white haired gentleman was waiting. His face registered concern when he saw Hartley’s armful.

 

“Hey, Alfred. Tell me you’ve equipment ready?” Roy asked him.

 

“Indeed,” said the man. Alfred’s accent was understandable, like he was sounding out his words so that the lowly Americans could understand him, but with practiced ease. “Bring Master Timothy inside, please. This way.”

 

They were led inside the behemoth sized foyer, then onto what was once a den that had been converted into a state of the art sickroom.

 

Hartley laid the teen gently down on the waiting bed. “Can we do anything?”

 

“Not yet,” said Alfred. He cut off the remainder of Tim’s clothes and attached EKG pads. An oxygen mask was placed on Tim’s face.

 

Hartley hesitated, though it was obvious Alfred had it well in hand. He didn’t like seeing children hurt, particularly not a child that was in any way related to their group. They protected their own, but now there was nothing they could do but wait.

 

-

 

An IV was inserted into Tim’s arm, bags of blood and saline being hung up nearby. The boy could only whimper softly over his discomfort, still not reaching full consciousness. Pennyworth then brought over an x-ray machine to check the teen for internal injuries.

 

The teen had a gash on his brow, some of his fingernails were pulled completely off, and there were many bruises, broken bones, and cuts aside.

 

Feeling sick and not wanting to see anymore, Roy ducked back out to the cold, dark foyer and touched the com unit on his ear. “Boss. Any news?”

 

“None,” said Jason. “I pulled everyone out of the field.”

 

“The Joker?”

 

There was a slight but unsettling pause. “You’ll be debriefed later. I’m on my way to you now.”

 

“Alright. Alfred’s still examining Tim.” Roy wasn’t sure how much he should say over the line, since it seemed pretty heartless, but he added anyway, “He doesn’t look good, boss.”

 

A longer pause. “Understood.”

 

Roy signed off and seriously contemplated just waiting there until Jason arrived. But if he did, Hartley would be alone, watching that broken boy lie on white sheets stained red with blood, and Roy couldn’t do that to him.

 

Roy walked back into the sickroom. He saw that the aged butler had moved from x-rays to ultrasound. Tim’s cuts were bandaged more competently, his wrist was in a splint, and the shoulder of the opposite arm was in a sling.

 

Hartley came over to Roy once he noticed his return, his green hood pushed back to reveal concern etched on familiar and much-loved features. Long strawberry-blond hair was in disarray from the explosion, but most of it still remained in a ponytail.

 

“He’s still finding injuries,” Hartley said, voice soft. “Joker really worked this kid over.”

 

Roy touched his shoulder lightly, feeling the soft material of the Piper costume and the warm body beneath. “No kidding. Shit.”

 

Hartley leaned into his side. “Poor kid.”

 

The redhead pulled his lover close to offer comfort, and needing a bit of it himself. He thought of Lian waiting at home for them, and Jason’s anxious voice, and of a murdering clown that was going to get off too lightly again. “Yeah.”

 

He placed a soft kiss against Hartley’s ear. His lover had been deaf as a boy, and due to the surgery that had given him his hearing, he was sensitive to noise. The ears themselves were sensitive to touch.

 

Hartley shivered against him.

 

They pulled away slightly as their leader rolled into the room. Jason preferred to wheel himself, so he used a chair without a motor (though he’d been given a motorized, hi-tech one from Luthor). The young man liked to get around on his own power.

 

Roy leaned back against the wall. This should be interesting, he thought grimly.

 

-

 

Jason went straight for Tim and the old man, getting around with the wheelchair with practiced ease. “Talk to me, Alfred.”

 

“Master Jason,” Alfred said, not looking up from Tim. “Perhaps it would be best if you waited for Master Bruce.”

 

“Perhaps you should let me help,” Jason snapped. He wasn’t angry with Alfred though; the old butler had always been like a kindly grandfather. But he was tired of being treated with kid gloves. “I have the experience now.”

 

He prayed Tim’s injuries were less severe than from his own run in with the Joker.

 

Alfred sighed the sigh of an old man who’d had to put up with too many kids who dressed up in costumes and tried to kill themselves regularly. “Master Timothy has several broken bones as well as a mild concussion and the surface injuries you can see. Several lacerations. I've already given him a shot of pain killer and a full set of x-rays.”

 

Jason looked the x-rays over. A broken wrist, dislocated shoulder, both of which Alfred had treated already. The lacerations were bandaged, glued, or stitched closed. An open bottle of antiseptic showed that Alfred had also cleaned the wounds as he worked, treating for infections from the cuts and removed fingernails.

 

Alfred went on to describe other injuries as he found them. Hemorrhaging, signs of shock, pulmonary respiration, signs of detoxing. Then there were the injuries they couldn’t yet see, the psychological damage to the boy’s mind.

 

Jason nodded in agreement. He knew just what a sick bastard the Joker was. He mentally added psychotherapy, counseling, and many other things Tim would need to treat trauma and acute stress reaction. A daily routine would need to be set; he would need contact with others, stress management, and a lot of sedatives. It was a small favor that Tim already meditated.

 

And along with these, he made a list of what his brother would need for the physical injuries, too.

 

Tim’s good eye fluttered. The other was too swollen. “Jase?”

 

“I’m here, baby bird,” Jason used the familiar nickname, taking Tim’s hand. “I’ve got you.”

 

Injured fingers squeezed his weakly. “Stay…”

 

“I will, promise. Try not to speak.”

 

From elsewhere in the manor, doors were opening. Footsteps drew closer to the den-turned-sickroom. Jason turned his wheelchair slightly to see Batman walk into the room, his cape whirling behind him. Batgirl, Oracle, and Nightwing followed closely behind.

 

Jason frowned as Bruce stopped short, staring at him and Tim together. He looked like he didn’t know what to do. The man just murmured Tim’s name and stood there.

 

Dick and Barbara reacted more like normal human beings, for which Jason was grateful for. They ran around Bruce and hovered over Tim, touching him lightly on places that weren’t hurt, speaking to him in soothing, loving tones. Cassie hung in the back, watching from behind her mask, but Jason didn’t blame her. There were a lot of people in the room and the girl had had worse experiences growing up than any of them.

 

Alfred assured them that Tim would be fine, with care and time. They visibly relaxed and even Jason let out a relieved breath—and for a moment they were a family. A bizarre, slightly crazy family, but that’s what they were, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

 

Then Bruce spoke and ruined the feeling.

 

“You can no longer be Robin.”

 

Jason whirled and glared at him. Of course, he should have seen this coming! One of them gets hurt and Bruce reacts the only way he can, by pushing them away. He knew that inside that armored nightmare suit, Bruce Wayne was still a little boy crouched in a dark alley, watching pearls and blood fall into a sewer drain. He _knew_.

 

Just as part of him was still in a warehouse, being beaten with a crowbar, listening to a madman’s maniacal laughter through the pain.

 

But no childhood trauma excused this treatment to one of his siblings.

 

“What?” Tim croaked.

 

“You will no longer be Robin,” Bruce repeated.

 

“Bruce!” Dick objected, but Jason kept his hateful eyes on Bruce.

 

He thought about all the ways he could take the overgrown bastard. It didn’t matter that he was in the chair. He had tricks Batman didn’t even know about now.

 

Tim argued, his terror of being thrown out giving him strength to, despite his weak voice. He struggled to sit up and tell Bruce he didn’t want to quit, but their adoptive father was firm. Tim would recover and live a normal life, whether he liked it or not. He would stop being a hero.

 

Bruce was scared, Jason knew that. Tim could have died. But now the teen was _crying_ and already hurting and Jason just wanted to punch him.

 

“I don’t want to be normal!” Tim cried.

 

“This isn't a democracy, Tim,” said Bruce. “My decision is final.”

 

Tim struggled more until Jason squeezed his hand, then the teen turned his attention on him.

 

Jason gave him another reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Tim. You don’t have to stop being a hero.”

 

Tim blinked at him weakly. “Jase?”

 

“I didn’t,” he reminded the boy gently, putting all his affection for Tim into his voice.

 

Because he wasn’t Bruce. He would never be Bruce.

 

“Neither do you.”

 

“Promise?”

 

Jason nodded firmly. “Wanna come stay with me?”

 

Tim nodded.

 

“Then you will.” He turned to Alfred. “If you can help Hartley get Tim out to my car, Roy and I will get what he needs.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Bruce objected. That same firm, unbending tone as before. Never changing, never turning from his goal, never seeing anything other than his own need for vengeance.

 

“Go fuck yourself,” Jason said as calmly as possible. Given how angry he was, it wasn’t easy, but he managed it better than he thought he would. For Tim.

 

Bruce stepped closer to loom. Even in the brightly lit room, he managed to be menacing. “He's not well enough to be moved and he's not coherent enough to make his own decisions.”

 

“I'll be the judge of that from now on. You just fired him, remember?”

 

“He's still my responsibility,” Bruce growled.

 

“He's mine. I can make it legal with one phone call, too.” He touched his earpiece, turning on a connection left open for emergencies. “You hearing all this, Lex?”

 

“Darling, you do realize I have things other than you in my life,” said Lex Luthor immediately.

 

Meaning _yes_ , he’d been listening, because Lex was obsessive like that. Jason smiled faintly.

 

“I know. But you know how Bruce is. Can we adopt Tim?” He said it lightly, but he was completely serious.

 

Lex didn’t get angry or say no. They had discussed it as a possibility. In fact, Jason heard a smirk in his voice. “Of course, lovely. I can have a patrol car there in ten minutes.”

 

“You bastard!” yelled Bruce, who could also hear what Lex was saying. There was plenty of love lost between the former school friends, but it didn’t stop them from occasionally trying to kill each other.

 

Tim started to cry, silently. Jason lifted him off the bed with great care and into his lap. Tim curled around him as much as he could with his sore body and Jason attached the IVs to his chair on latches set on just for that. He’d recovered in this chair himself and left them on.

 

“We’ll get your stuff later, baby bird,” Jason told the boy after ordering Hartley and Roy to the car. He didn’t want to waste anymore time.

 

Bruce got in his way as he turned. “Jason, Luthor's done something to you. You've been brainwashed.”

 

Of course. Because Lex wasn’t capable of caring for anyone and Jason was still a child. Insert sarcastic remark here, Jason thought bitterly.

 

Hartley and Roy returned, falling into guard positions around him. Hartley had his flute out, close to his lips, and Roy held his bow, the string pulled taut by an arrow.

 

“Back off, Wayne,” Hartley said, in a falsely pleasant tone.

 

“Yeah.” Roy’s eyes were dark and angry. “I bet those police that Lex's about to call would be _really_ interested in your identity.”

 

“You will regret this,” Bruce threatened.

 

Dick caught Bruce’s arm. “Bruce, don’t. Just stop.”

 

“Nightwing…”

 

Jason wheeled around them, leading the way out. He could hear his adoptive big brother argue with Bruce behind them. He made a mental note to thank Dick later for that. He may only get along with the older man slightly better than his father, but it was nice to have the back up now.

 

A car pulled up to the Manor’s entrance as they walked out. From the driver’s seat emerged Hope, one of Lex Luthor’s trusted bodyguards.

 

“Mr. Todd,” she said curtly. “Gentlemen.”

 

“Punctual as always, Hope,” Jason said, grateful for the assistance as she helped him get inside the car with Tim.

 

Once inside, he turned the communication with his lover back on. Dimly, he could hear a helicopter starting up. “Thought you had other things in your life, Lex,” he noted with a small amount of amusement.

 

“I do,” Lex responded immediately, “that's why Mercy isn't the one picking you up.”

 

Jason smiled faintly as Hope drove them away from the Manor, toward Gotham. “Mercy won't leave your side for anything, Lex, even when you order her to.”

 

“My employees always do exactly as I tell them.”

 

“Mm-hm.” The sound of the helicopter was getting louder. “Planning on going somewhere?”

 

“I thought I’d take a trip to Gotham,” Lex said over the noise. “It seems my fiancé has got a mess on his hands and needs my help.”

 

Jason sagged in his chair, trying to ignore the emotion that welled up in his throat. Facing Bruce was never easy, even as angry with him as he was. Knowing that Lex was on the way made him feel stronger. “Thanks, Lex.”

 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Lex promised. “Where’s Tesla?”

 

“Con’s still in New York fighting a giant lizard with Starfire and Raven,” Jason answered, willing himself not to groan. Their eldest was cloned from Lex’s DNA and Superman’s, so he often got to do bigger missions, like monsters. Jason still worried about him though. He would rather Conner be home, especially tonight.

 

“Within an hour, Jason. I promise.”

 

“Fly safe.”

 

“The only thing that could stop me would be an apocalypse.”

 

Now Jason did groan. “Don’t joke. With your luck, it’ll happen.” Then he remembered something. “Oh, Lex?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’ll be pleased to know that the Joker is dead.”

 

 

~ End of this part ~


End file.
